Hello
by MyimmortalHadenXCharm
Summary: What am I doing here? I'm laying in a hospital bed, an IV hooked into my arm. I can hardly see, can hardly hear. Everything's getting dark. That's when I know. I'm going to die. -Warning- Heavy Angst. Get tissues.


AN- Listen to this while you read. It makes the angst go, Like woah. 'Cancer' By My Chemical Romance. Or 'Hello' By Evanescence.

EDIT- I did the first draft in about an hour. :/ So I'm revising it today.

* * *

I blink and then blink again after a moment. I've never felt so panicked.

It's so white in this room that I can't even see; It's absolutely blinding. I try to lift my hand to cover my eyes, but I realize that I can't even move.

And cold. It's so cold in here.

Just that thought makes me all panicky and choked up inside.

There's people crowded around me, speaking, speaking, always speaking. I can hear them, but only their voices. The words don't make sense.

One of them speaks in a low, slow tone, trying to attract my attention. He turns my chin towards him, and I recognize that he wants me to give them a sign that I can hear them, that I'm not in a coma.

But what if this is what a coma feels like?

My heart starts to pound, and I pull up the corner of my lip in an indication that I was 'there'.

Some of them move away from the bed, and one of them moves to the side of me, and fiddles with something- I can hear, a clanging against a metal pole, and the trickle of liquid.

And suddenly, everything clears.

I blink again, and I realize again, how cold I am in here.

One of the nurses sees how violently I'm shivering, and pulls the blankets back over me. But that just makes it worse, because the sheets are freezing.

What am I doing here? I can't remember. What happened to me?

Was I in a car crash? Or a fire? Did I have an overdose? Did I try to commit suicide? Did I get dehydrated? _What happened?!_

And where's Miguel? Where is he? Why isn't he here? Was he hurt too?

Is he dead? Another violent quake rocks my whole body.

No, no, no.

I have to be dreaming, this must be a nightmare.

I look at the nurse, and she's pouring something into the plastic bag that's on the metal pole, the liquid shooting down the tube and into my arm. My veins burn.

I can hear the doctor shouting at someone in the hall, someone who was trying to get past him and into the room. It sounds like my sister-

I blink, still overwhelmed by the brightness in the room- I can't feel my feet, they're so cold.

It's starting to get dark now, And the noise is dying down as the doctor shuts the door. And now they're sticking pads onto my chest and hooking them up to an electrocardiogram.

That's when I know.

I'm going to die.

* * *

He's just laying there. Damn it. Fucking Fuck. Why, why, why?!

He hasn't woken up in two days. I know he's tired, I know he's just sleeping, but what if I never get to talk to him again before he wakes up?

He had asked me to get him a pickle from the cafeteria, and when I came back he was asleep.

It's sad. He'll be upset that I don't sleep, that I won't leave the hospital and go home while he's shut up here. I can't go.

I know how much he hates doctor's offices.

The saddest thing is, sometimes when he wakes up, he won't even remember what's wrong, and the someone has to break the news to him all over again.

He remembers something specific, but it was something that never happened. That we were both in a car crash at a fourway intersection, next to the CVS and acrossed from the Meijers.

He thanks God that I wasn't hurt too, and then apologizes profusely for destroying my car. He gets confused when I start crying. And I always do.

This man, He was always stronger than me. Tulio. Tulio was the strong one, the reliable one, the dependable one.

And here he is now, with something that can be construed as a death sentence.

He'll be okay though. He has to be.

I hold his hand tightly, his fingers limp in my grasp. Damn that heart monitor. Mother fucking fuck. Damn it to hell.

Damn it and it's annoying sound.

* * *

My name is Tulio. I am Twenty-eight. And I have everything.

I have a gorgeous boyfriend, who I'm going to marry someday. We're both film stars. I'm in the prime of my life. I have everything that Hollywood says will make you happy.

A gorgeous family. A cool car. Money. Fame.

This wasn't supposed to happen to me.

I'm sitting in the doctor's office, and I just feel numb. I feel like everything I have has been torn away from me. I've just lost everything.

Why me? Why _me?_

'But why anybody?' My mind asks. 'Why?'

My life was just beginning, and now I've just been told that everything I wanted is destroyed.

I'm never going to get married, I'm never going to have 2.5 perfect children, and travel the world and live the good life with the man I love forever and ever.

Everything we wanted, everything I was going to give him has just been cut into pieces.

I was supposed to make him happy, and keep him smiling forever and ever.

Instead he's clinging to me, face buried in my side, sobbing. It sounds horrible. It's breaking my heart.

I don't cry. I can't. One of us has to stay strong.

This isn't supposed to happen.

We're supposed to get married and have gorgeous babies and star in movies together until we're old and grey. We're supposed to stay together forever, and be the couple that everyone can count on to always be happy.

We have to be the two that never break up, the two that everyone can depend on to stay together, to pull through.

To fight, to argue, and then to make it all better, and love each other.

My plans. They've all been ripped apart.

* * *

I cried when the doctor told him.

I had gone with him to the doctor's office. It was a checkup. I was in the waiting room for awhile, reading crappy magazines about other movie stars and their stupid lives. I smiled at a couple kids who recognized me from some stupid flicks that I had been in.

The nurse called me over to the counter, and told me to go back to Tulio's room. They had thought that it would be better for him to hear it with someone else there, for support.

They didn't know that Tulio wouldn't be the one to fall apart, it would be me.

I hadn't expected it, and he definitely hadn't either. I thought they were going to tell us about a bill, or about some stupid vitamins or other nonsense.

He had been expecting anything but this. The shock in his blue eyes was proof enough.

It wasn't a terminal illness. It wasn't a death sentence. It wasn't, it wasn't, it wasn't. I keep trying to tell myself that. I keep trying to see the hope. That's my job.

There has to be something.

Most people don't die from the type Tulio has, he has hope to get better, the doctor says. That's supposed to make me feel better, but the word still sounds disgusting as it slices off the doctor's tongue. _Cancer._

Leukemia. Tulio has Chronic Leukemia.

* * *

I'm shaking all the way home. I can pride myself on the fact that I had no reaction in the doctor's office. My voice had been smooth as I asked my options, I didn't cry, I didn't panic.

But my boyfriend had been crying, wetting almost half of my shirt with tears and snot, sobbing as if he'd already lost me.

Miguel's father had died of cancer. Granted, it was lung cancer, but he still was worried. I'd never seen him so worried.

He's composed by the time we get to the car. He had stopped in the bathroom, and cleaned his face off, and when he'd come out, he was as apathetic as I had been in the office.

He knew that I didn't want to see him fall apart.

When we stopped at the corner of the sidewalk, the 'walk' symbol turned green and Miguel started to cross the street to the parking lot of the hospital.

"Miguel-" I say in a panicked voice as I realize that the anxiety that I had been cursed with from birth had finally set in. My limbs had locked into place, and I couldn't move, I couldn't _move_.

He glances at me, and immeadiatly understands, taking my wrist and supporting me as we moved acrossed the crosswalk.

He has to carry me when we get to the parking lot because I'm shaking so bad.

He let me down from the piggyback when we stopped by my red Ford Sonic. He dug the keys out of my pocket and unlocked it. He handed the keys to me and sat in the passengers seat. I sat behind the wheel, feeling absolutely numb as he opened a package of chex mix and started eating it, not meeting my eyes.

I could tell that he wanted to talk about it, but he still didn't say anything, knowing that I _couldn't_talk about it.

He then glanced at me, giving a nod that he was ready to go. I blinked.

Miguel had to drive us back, because I couldn't even get the keys into the ignition.

We stop at a gas station and he parks, without getting gas. He goes inside, telling me to just sit there and wait for him. I sit there and I'm seriously starting to shake. Badly.

I can't even wrap my fingers around the seatbelt strap. I don't know what's scaring me more. The fact that I'm reacting this way, or the fact that Miguel isn't reacting anymore, just to try to calm me down.

He comes back with a peach-mango Arizona tea, and a hostess snowball for me. I take one bite, and I can't eat anymore.

When we get home, I tell him I'm going to bed, and he nods, taking a sip of his Arizona tea. I know he doesn't believe that I'm actually tired. He knows that I just want to hide from him and his eyes. But he lets me.

It's like how we used to be: I let him get away with murder, and he gives me anything that my heart desires. He cooks for me, and I clean for him. I hug him, he kisses me. I love him, he loves me.

I can't look into those green eyes anymore, and the film over them. I hear him turn on the TV and some stupid game show comes on, the kind that we always watch together. The kind that I make fun of while he combs his fingers through my hair.

I go into our bedroom and sit on the floor by the bed. I can hear him walking around in the kitchen, taking the phone from it's plastic base and calling his work- Telling them that he's taking some days off to stay at home with me.

His voice doesn't shake, it's steady like mine was in the doctor's office, and it cuts off when he snaps the phone back into the base. He opens and shuts the fridge without even looking inside.

He turns off the TV as he realizes that he can't bear the background noise.

I realize that I'm curled on my side, face pressed into the carpet- Miguel's pillow is in my arms, and I don't remember grabbing it.

And I'm hugging it like it's Miguel, like I'm never going to let him go. Like I'm never going to leave him.

Miguel opens his laptop at the coffee table and starts reading. Probably reading up about what's going to happen to me. He breaks again. I feel sick as I hear him starting to gasp and choke on tears.

And I run to the bathroom, vomiting, knees bruising as they hit the tiles.

* * *

We tell Tulio's family. His weeps and holds him tight, and Tulio just looks numb. I know he's in denial.

His sister hugs him close and he seems to come to life for her, hugging her back, burying his face in her hair.

His father nods at him, and just like that he turns to stone again.

I feel like I'm tearing up inside. As much as I loved Tulio's family, they were treating him as if they had already lost him.

His friends too, when we told them, they would pat him on the shoulder and give him their best of luck. But there was this conviction in their eyes, that told him that they knew that his chances were low.

Corbin told him to kick cancer's pathetic ass, and Tulio at least laughed for that. Stefan told him that he was in his prayers.

Luna gave him a lollipop and kissed his cheek. Then she that happiness that was always plastered on her face broke, and she hugged him fiercely before leaving.

Everyone had already given up on him.

* * *

Miguel holds my hand when they give me the first injections. Cyclophosphamide and Chlorambucil, the doctors say. The words are meaningless to me.

They start telling me about how we have to get an apartment near the hospital, and how I have to stay inside, and that no one but my family and Miguel is allowed to be near me.

But I'm not really listening, because all I can think about is how people who start the Chemo lose their hair.

Miguel will abandon me when he sees how horrible I'll look.

* * *

Tulio started the chemotherapy treatment.

I don't know alot about it, besides the fact that it makes you lose your hair and that you have to stay inside. It destroys your immune system, and hopefully the cancer along with it.

I can hear him in the bathroom, saying 'No, no, no' over and over again.

I open the door, and see him staring at himself in the mirror, arms clamped over his head. The horror in his eyes as he combs his fingers through his long hair, only to see it coming out in clumps was just awful.

Tulio knew that this was going to happen, but I knew he wasn't prepared for it. It wouldn't matter how long you gave him to prepare, He was never going to be ready for it. He loved his hair.

Not only that, but this is one of those things that proves to you that this is real. This isn't a dream. You can't avoid this any longer, you have to face it.

He whips around when he hears me gasp, and his face is just this mask of utter terror. His hands are shaking in front of him, and he's staring at the strands of dark hair knotted around his fingers like it's blood.

I put my arms around his stiff, shaking form, and he just latches onto me, pressing his eyes into my shirt. He would rather swallow a razor blade than let me see him break.

I hold him, and let him bury his face in my chest. I'd never heard him cry until that day.

* * *

I'm so ugly. I feel so horrible.

I had had it all. I wasn't the prettiest thing in the world, but I looked good, I was comfortable with myself.

I had a sweet, cute boyfriend that I loved; I had a good life. I had everything that normal people wanted. Love, riches, and fame.

Now I have to wear a bandanna everywhere, and people are always staring at me.

My hands shake as Miguel hands me change to put into the snack machine. We're staying at a hotel. Some kids walk past in their bathing suits, and one smiles at Miguel and asks for an autograph.

He signs her towel, and gives her a kiss, never letting go of my hand. I watch on longingly as his lips peck her on the top of the head.

I don't kiss him anymore. I can't. I can't do it. Because I know that If I do, it'll make it harder to leave him.

I won't kiss him until I'm better. Not until I kick cancer's pathetic ass. If I do.

Miguel can't even look at me. I'm awful just to look at. He'll leave me. There's no way he could love me anymore.

Not like this. It's not love anymore. It's just pity.

* * *

I get out of my car and practically run to the door of my sister's house. Her and her husband have two kids, and I just hope they aren't home.

Her husband already thinks I'm a queer, and I don't want my neices to see me cry.

I ring the doorbell twice and then knock insistently. I just collapse at my sister's feet as soon as she opens the door, and I'm already sobbing, clinging to her leg like a child.

She squats and starts hugging me, and I quiet down a bit, crying into her shoulder as she rubs my back. I hold onto her and weep, not registering the small fingers in my hair as Jade timidly comes from down the stairs to comfort me as well. Susan is not far behind.

Robert just crosses his arms and stares at me.

Kitty's rocking me and telling me how sorry she is, and I know I should be embarrased that I'm crying like a baby.

They don't even know what's wrong.

"Tulio's got cancer-" I hiccup, wiping my eyes furiously, standing weakly. Kimberly gasps, and Jadelynn lets out a small 'eep'. Robert's facial expression softens.

Lynnie and Sue loved Tulio. He had come over before. And Kitty, she just adored him and his sister Julia.

I fling out an arm to steady myself on the side of the door as Kimmy tries to usher me inside. I collapse again on the couch.

"I think he's going to die. He's going to leave me. Just like Daddy." I sniffle. Susan cuddles up to me on the couch, and I squeeze her to me tightly.

"It'll be okay, Ito. It'll be okay."

And I know it won't. Because I can't live if Tulio doesn't.

"I'm so sorry, Miguel."

And I might be one of the most forgiving people on this planet, but Sorry just isn't enough for me now.

* * *

"Miguel..." I say weakly, I didn't want it to end this way. I had never wanted to go this way, not in a hospital bed. I don't like it. I don't like it at all.

Miguel knows that I hate the doctor's office. He stays with me, by the side of my bed, only leaving to pee, or to bring me food from the cafeteria.

I don't like the white rooms and the crisp sheets, or the smell, that sterile smell of cleaning fluid, and antiseptic, and... something that is purely Hospital. I don't like this IV in my arm, or the stupid electrocardiogram that is counting down the rest of my life with it's pulsations of green and that stupid beeping noise.

"What do you need," That beautiful voice- "I'll give you whatever you want, babe."

"I want to go home, I want to sit on the couch and watch TV and eat Chinese food. I don't like it here," And my voice cracks, and that's the moment I know I'm broken.

* * *

And that just breaks my heart.

Tulio just looks so scared. So very small in that bed.

"I know," My voice cracks, and I pat his hand, hugging him as much as I can while he lays there. "I know you don't."

He doesn't kiss me anymore. It hurts me that he won't, but I don't say anything. I know why he can't.

He doesn't like me to look at him anymore. He feels ugly, revolting. He doesn't let me look at him without his bandanna on.

I still think he's beautiful. He'll always be beautiful to me.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

My voice is a pale rasp now. Miguel had gone down to the cafeteria and had brought me a snack pack with gummy worms in it. I can't even open the thing by myself.

My arms are sore from all the times those nurses had stuck needles in me. Nutrients, Medicine, more Chemo treatment. The list went on and on.

I am sick of this place. I'm sick of reading stupid magazines, I'm sick of playing I spy in a room where there's virtually nothing to spy. I'm sick of getting phone calls from sympathetic people. I'm sick of hearing the doctor ask if I want reporters to be let in. I'm sick of asking Miguel to go to the library to check out a book to read to me, because he keeps refusing to leave me.

I had Miguel phone my sister earlier, giving him a list of things that I wanted her to bring to me, things that I needed her to do.

Close my bank account, write letters to all my friends, tell my agent to tell the director to cast someone else to my part.

I wanted to tell Miguel to make sure they bury me in my favorite colors, but I just can't say that. I know what that will do to him.

And I can't hurt him anymore than I already have. I can't stand the thought of him leaving me.

"I know this isn't that romantic or anything-"

Miguel looks up, smiling thinly, and kisses me on the cheek. I smile as much as I can with my broken heart.

"-but if I make it through this, could you marry me?"

He kisses me all over.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I wince as they slip an IV line out of his arm.

They're running out of places to stick the needles. They have five in one arm, and three in the other. When I asked the doctor why, I didn't understand his answer, and no one would explain.

"I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with you." Tulio whispers softly, brushing my face gently with a gauze-wrapped hand, wincing as a needle is jostled against another.

The nurse looks pained as she hears us talk, trying her best to ignore his words as she flicks a syringe to get the bubbles out She administer that one as well, and replaces the IV. She tells Tulio that they're going to give him a blood transfusion.

He just nods without looking at her, eyes never moving from my face. She actually cringes, face screwing up in sorrow.

"You had it all planned?" I curled up the corner of my mouth, cherishing the time I get to spend with him. It could be all that I get.

"Yeah... We were going to have 6 kids like you wanted... And live in a compound in Malibu..." Tulio blinked. "I-"

I blinked back.

"I just realized... My film career is ruined." He laughs hollowly.

"Mine as well," I kiss his knuckles. He smiles. It's a real smile for once, but it fades fast. Much too fast.

I hadn't seen him give a real smile since before all of this.

"No, I mean, no matter what happened, who ever else I met, I knew that... Nothing would ever be better than you. Nothing can replace you."

I smile, trying to keep myself from saying that that's exactly how I feel. I'm the one who's going to be left behind. But Tulio's the one who has to drift away while I keep on living.

It's hard to say who this is harder on.

"Just one thing, I know it's selfish..." Tulio swallows hard, I listen intently. "I just..." He's getting choked up, which makes me tear up inside.

"I don't want you to ever move on... I can't even ima-" He sobs then, "I can't even think about you loving someone else." He fists his hand around my wrist, his elbow starting to bleed where the needles were pressed in deeper.

The nurse leaves the room. I hear her start to cry before she leaves.

* * *

His head is in my lap, and I pet his hair as much as I can. His whole body's shaking as he weeps. His frame wracks as the silent sobs force their way from his heart. He's crying like he's already lost me.

The doctor said that my chances had diminished even further. That my body wasn't fighting back. That the chemotherapy had destroyed my immune system and that I had caught the flu. Which right now, could kill me.

"I'm so sorry, I was supposed to keep you safe," He hiccuped, "Your dad, Your dad told me to- To keep you safe."

My heart crunches itself into tinier bits.

"I can't help you, I can't fix you."

"I love you. And that's enough." I whispered, and he kissed me on the mouth, his tears wetting my cheeks. My arms sting as I hold his face to mine and kiss him like it's the last time.

"I love you-" Miguel said back, kissing me all over the face.

* * *

I bought a popsicle from the cafeteria; Tulio had asked for one. He was so weak that he couldn't even hold it, I had to feed him.

There were bruises up and down his arms, and he was so pale that he almost blended into the bed. The doctors list had gone on and on, _Pneumonia, Anemia, Spleen swelling, Blood clots-_

Tulio's voice is soft, "I thought I was ready for this..." My breath is shaky.

"I don't want to leave you," He croaks, looking at me longingly. His fingers twitch, but his arms don't move.

"Please hang on," I begged. He nods tiredly. I knew that our time left together had decreased from years to days.

* * *

I'm crying again. The doctors had made Miguel wait outside for hours now, while they gave me more shots. I couldn't even drink the water that the nurse gave me, because I couldn't hold the glass I was shaking so hard.

They told me that my family was here too, but that they couldn't come in.

They thought that this would be the last time they would see me. If my father had come with them, then that was for sure.

"Please can I see them- Please."

"Tomorrow."

* * *

They let us in after Tulio fell asleep. They said it was all very peaceful, that it was less cruel to everyone to keep him away from us.

I don't believe them though. I heard Tulio crying. Everyone did. Tulio's father had been stark white as he heard it, not even feeling his wife clinging to him and weeping at the sound of her only son like that. Julia had sat on the floor in a ball, purse next to her legs, face buried in her knees.

Her husband sat next to her, holding her close, and whispering 'shh's in her ear. Kim and I just hugged eachother for hours.

At least we all had someone to comfort. Tulio had no one.

After they had let us in, we all crowded around his bed. He was sleeping then, and we all took turns giving him a kiss to the forehead. They left an hour later.

Tulio's heart monitor flatlined in the middle of the night.

I couldn't look at him. Doctors seemed to come out of the walls, and they were panicking just as much as I was.

I just collapsed to my knees, hands covering my face. There's a nurse trying to pull me from the room, but I latch onto a bed post, eyes wide open.

I don't cry. I'm too scared to cry.

The _noise_ when they use the defibrilator machine. God, the noise. The sound of a body, lurching upward and flopping back downwards. And this horrible crackling_zap._

"You need to hold on buddy, Come back to us."

I'm praying so hard, that I think I'm going to explode.

_God, please. Dear Lord. Help. Someone help._

* * *

I wake up with gauze wrapped around my chest. There are burns all over my torso. My ribs are sore. I blink. What happened?

Miguel's eyes are red and raw, and he's sniffling, hand in mine.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

He just cries.

* * *

It's so hard to look at him now.

This man. His arms are sticks, his body is bruised, his eyes are dead.

This was the bright eyed teenager that I had fallen in unrequited love with in high school. This was the boy who had driven me home from the movies after my date had ditched me there. This was the college kid who had gotten in a fight with a jock who called me a faggot.

This was the man who had comforted me after some kids had thrown eggs at my dorm door, and had said that we could both be 'ambiguously gay', even if he told me that he really wasn't.

This was the same person who had asked me out at the end of the Homecoming football game, This was the man who had defended me from his father after he had brought me home to meet his family, This was the man who had sent me voice mails telling me how much he loved me all the time.

This was the man I loved, my 'boo-thing', my boyfriend, my lover. The man who was going to have children with me, who I was supposed to marry, and spend my life with.

He looked like a corpse now.

"Am I going to die?" He asked, eyes seeing nothing, just staring upwards.

I just can't answer.

* * *

I know that I'm dying. I ask Miguel to get me a candy bar, and then tell the nurse to keep him outside. I don't want him to see me go.

I know that that will destroy him.

I ask the nurse to write a letter to him. I dictate what I want written down, and she writes it.

Then I demand that she tell him that it was all very peaceful, that I didn't feel any pain, No matter what actually happened or how messy it actually was.

Then I told her that I didn't want them to try to revive me again.

She obeys all of it. I don't think she would've been able to bear denying me my dying wishes.

* * *

I don't have exact change. I have to go down to the lobby and ask the woman behind the counter there if she has thirty five more cents.

Tulio wants a Snickers bar. And at this moment, I would get him the food of the gods if he asked for it.

* * *

"I'm scared," I say meekly, after all my affairs are in order, and she seals the letter. She looks at me, and it's clear that I just broke her heart.

It's cold, so very cold.

She hugs my face close to her chest, and I take a shuddery breath. Then she settles down next to me, holding my hand, telling me not to try to hold on, just to focus on something and think about it.

Miguel. He has the prettiest green eyes. And the most gorgeous smile. I can see it like a photograph of someone I knew, but who later became unhappy or died. Like a memory that you love, but hurts you to call upon.

It's getting so dark, and I realize... It's not so bad. The pain is starting to go away. And the cold is starting to fade.

* * *

I was only gone for an hour. I had gone acrossed the street to get a sandwich for myself, and had gotten my wallet from the car.

When I came back the wouldn't let me back inside the room. The doctor came out and told me that he was gone. He put an awkward hand on my shoulder as I pounded a fist into the wall and cried, crumpling to the floor.

They wouldn't even let me see his body. I bet that they thought that was less cruel too.

I had started laughing then, curling into a ball and rocking, laughing hysterically. They took me to a room for PTSD victims.

I just lay on the floor in a ball, tears seeping from my eyes, unhindered.

* * *

I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and see him, young, and happy like he used to be.

I keep reading the words over and over. Over and over.

_I was watching you sleeping last night. I started crying, thinking about our lives. Not the ones we've lived, but the lives we've lost. The life that I was going to give you._

_I hate seeing you like this. It hurts. I keep hoping that you're going to be strong, but I keep thinking that you're going to do something rash. How are you going to function without me to be your little voice?_

_Will you miss me?_

_When they told me that I had cancer, the first words out of my mouth were, "I'm never going to make it," and I know you believed me, even if I was joking at the time._

_I kept trying to be strong, telling myself that if I was going to go, then I wasn't going to cry. I had to be strong for you. Because I knew that if I gave up, then you'd fall apart. It was always one of us holding the other up._

_You are my best friend, you always have been. I promise that I won't talk to anyone until I see you again. I won't make any friends with whoever I meet until you're with me._

_Wherever I'm going._

_I love you. I love everything about you. I love how you love others. Do you remember when we went to see Kim right after she had Susan? When I saw you holding her, I just wanted to kiss you and tell you that I wanted kids with you right then._

_I wanted to marry you._

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

_You know how I said that I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with you? Well... I feel better. Because, I doget to spend the rest of my life with you._

_Will your guardian angels mind if I take their job?_

_I'm such a selfish person. I wasn't lying earlier. I never want you to move on. I don't want you to get married or have kids._

_I don't want you to suffer, but I just can't think about you being with someone else._

_This isn't your fault. This was never your fault. There was never anything that anyone could've done._

_I'll see you soon._

_I love you baby. Goodbye._

Goodbye Tulio Garcia. Goodbye.

* * *

I gave the eulogy at the funeral. Everyone had insisted.

There's lots of people there. People who had seen our movies, people who actually knew us, and people who only knew our names.

They all listen as I talk about how great a person Tulio James Oliver Garcia was. The cameras flash and film spins in the cameras.

"I love him. He is my best friend, and no one will ever convince me that there is a better actor in all the world."

No one minds that I can hardly talk at the mike, and that I'm crying really hard- Like snotty, Wet, gross crying.

No one cares. Because they know that this hit me the hardest.

* * *

It's been three weeks.

Everyone expected this, but no one had said anything. They knew it was coming.

I hold Tulio's picture to my chest. I'm in our bed. The bed that we shared and made love in.

We were supposed to raise children in this house. We were supposed to be married and be happy.

And for a moment, I feel genuinely happy. Because I'm going to see him again. I am.

He was the only one for me. The only one in the world. He was my partner, my confident, my one and my only.

I don't think Tulio ever expected me to keep living without him. He always knew that I was going to do it. He just didn't say it, because he didn't want to put the idea in my head.

People will misconstrue this. They'll think that I did it because of a broken heart. Not because I want to be with him so badly.

I don't leave a note. Nobody needs one. They had said their goodbyes earlier.

I make it sudden.

"I love you."

_BLAM_


End file.
